One Red Rose
by autumnrose2010
Summary: Carrie stays in Paris with Aleksandr, and later, when tragedy strikes, they have some important decisions to make together.
1. First Night In Paris

As I lay there in the darkness, my back facing Aleksandr's, I began to cry. Life in Paris hadn't turned out to be what I'd expected at all. I was miserable, and I wanted to go home. My ruined party had been the last straw. My chest heaved in loud, gasping sobs. I didn't even care if he heard me.

"Carrie?" He had.

"Hold me, Alex." I longed to be held and comforted, even by him. I felt his arms encircle me and hold me tight, felt the warm softness of his body against mine, and my mind went back to the time I'd been standing with him on the pier in New York, how I'd told him I was cold and he'd held his arms out to me. Life with Aleksandr may never be exactly the way I wanted it to be, but I knew that my Russian would always be there to keep me warm when I was cold or lonely.

"Make love to me," I said. "I feel so all alone right now..."

He showered my face with kisses, then gradually moved lower, pushing my clothing aside as his warm, wet lips left a trail of moisture on my flesh. My fingers swept gently through his hair as I tingled all over, my aching center yearning for his touch, until suddenly he was there, the thrill of his touch sending me cascading right over the edge.

"Please...I want to feel you inside me..." I moaned.

"Patience, my dear," he chuckled, and when I couldn't stand it any more, he entered me and began to thrust. All memories of the loneliness and disappointment I'd felt since arriving in Paris simply melted away at his loving ministrations. I cried out in ecstasy a second time, and seconds later, I heard him moaning and grunting his own release.

Afterwards he held me and caressed me tenderly. "I'm sorry about your party," he whispered.

"It was my fault," I told him. "I knew how things were probably going to turn out at the exhibit. I should have left as soon as I realized you didn't need me there anymore."

"We'll talk more about it tomorrow, 'k?" he murmured sleepily.

I awoke the following morning to find myself alone in bed, but one red rose lay on Aleksandr's pillow. A scented note accompanied it. On the note was a brief message in my Russian's handwriting. "Dearest Carrie, You are never alone. Even when I can't be there with you physically, you are still in my heart. Love, Sasha."

I smiled as I closed my eyes again.


	2. Chloe

A short time later, I arose and fixed myself breakfast. While eating, I debated what to do for the day and decided to pay another visit to the bookstore I'd gone to the previous day. Perhaps one of my new friends would be there, and I could explain what had happened the previous night.

I arrived to find the bookstore almost completely deserted. Disappointed, I turned to leave when the cashier called to me. "Excuse me, but are you Carrie Bradshaw?"

"Yes, I am!" I practically shouted. "I'm looking for the people I was supposed to meet up with last night. I wanted to apologize for not being able to make it to the party. At the last minute, my boyfriend needed me to do something with him, and I couldn't cancel out because I didn't have anyone's telephone number."

"Oh, I know who you mean!" the cashier exclaimed with a smile. "I remember overhearing the conversation you had with them yesterday. They come in here all the time. The next time I see them, I'll tell them what you said."

Feeling immensely better about the ruined party, I set out to see what further adventures I could find on my second day of roaming around Paris. I saw the little girl who'd hit me in the head and then stuck her tongue out at me the previous day riding on her father's shoulders again. I made a mean face at her, and she burst out crying.

I realized that now that I was no longer working, I had a tremendous amount of free time in the daytime. Surely seeing all the sights of Paris wouldn't take longer than two or three weeks at the most. What should I do after that? Look for a new job? Write a new book?

I turned a corner, and a park filled with running, laughing children came into view. I felt the familiar ache as I thought of Miranda and her son Brady, Charlotte and her new baby girl from China. I remembered Aleksandr telling me that he wouldn't change his mind about his vasectomy. Tears came to my eyes as I desperately tried to think of something else.

I had lunch in one of the fanciest diners in Paris. With Aleksandr, money was no object. After that, I went to an afternoon movie and then back to the apartment.

It was the second night of Aleksandr's exhibition, so he wasn't nearly as nervous as he'd been the first night. I'd resigned myself to a quiet night of French television and wine when my doorbell rang, and there stood the man and one of the women from the bookstore.

"I'm Gerard, and this is Aimee," the man told me. "The cashier at the bookstore told us that you came in and explained what happened with your boyfriend last night. Is he all right now?"

"Oh, yes! He's much better now," I replied. "He was just feeling really anxious because it was the first night of his exhibition. Won't you come in?"

It turned out they'd brought leftovers from the previous night's party, so we had a really nice time eating and drinking, talking and laughing. The party was just winding down when Aleksandr got home.

"Oh, you have company," he remarked.

"This is Gerard and Aimee," I told him. "They're a couple of the people I was supposed to meet at my party last night."

"How do you do," Aleksandr said in a voice completely devoid of enthusiasm. "I'm very tired, and I'm going to bed now. You may carry on."

Gerard and Aimee left shortly after that. Aleksandr was already snoring by the time I joined him in bed.

* * *

For several weeks, life went on in a similar manner. I explored Paris by day and socialized with my new friends in the evenings. Aleksandr's exhibition eventually ended, and he had more time to devote to me. He pampered and spoiled me just as he had when we'd been in New York. Many times we passed by the park with the running and laughing children, and every time we did, the yearning within me grew greater and greater, yet I knew that I dare not say a word about it to Aleksandr.

Then came the day I returned from an outing with my friends to find him sitting shaky and pale, all the color drained from his face.

"It's Chloe," he told me. "She's been in an accident. A terrible one."


	3. Change Of Heart

I felt terrible for Aleksandr as I sat at his side looking at his daughter lying so pale and still, hooked up to machines. I'd only met Chloe a handful of times so didn't know her very well, but I knew how devoted her father was to her and how devastated he'd been when this had happened.

Chloe's mother Juliette sat on the other side of her bed. My one awkward lunch date with her had taken place right after my arrival in Paris. Although some fifteen years or so older than me, she was still very stylish and chic and had made me feel just a tad insecure. That was the last thing on my mind now as the three of us sat there silently.

As I waited, the song that Aleksandr had composed for me kept running through my mind. It was the first time anyone had ever written a song for me. Aleksandr was so talented, both musically and artistically. I couldn't even begin to imagine how he must feel right now.

"She's going to make it," Juliette said. "She's strong. Remember when she was six and had her tonsils out? We were so worried that there might be bleeding complications, but the day after her surgery she was sitting up in bed, smiling and eating ice cream."

"It was only a couple of years after that when she fell off her bike and had to have stitches on her elbow," Aleksandr added.

"I remember," Juliette chimed in. "You told her that if she was a brave girl and didn't cry when they were putting in the stitches, you'd buy her a puppy."

"That was when we got Pierre." Aleksandr chuckled at the memory. "What a good little dog he was!"

As Chloe's parents recalled fond memories of her childhood, I began to feel very left out. I was almost relieved when visiting hours were over and it was time to go home.

Back at the apartment, Aleksandr sat on the edge of the bed and cried. "I don't know what I'll do if I lose her," he sobbed. "I don't think I'll be able to go on."

"You're not going to lose her," I told him. "She's going to be fine." I held him as he wept.

"She's my only child," he continued. "I'll never have another one. If she doesn't make it..."

I didn't know what to say. How could I comfort the man I loved when he was faced with the prospect of possibly losing his only child?

* * *

Several weeks went by, and Chloe's condition remained unchanged. The doctors weren't optimistic that she'd ever regain consciousness. Aleksandr and Juliette spent every possible minute by her bedside. My life changed dramatically as well. My heart still ached for my friends back in New York, and Paris had lost all its glamor and sparkle for me in the face of Aleksandr's deep grief. He was preoccupied for a different reason now, one that he obviously couldn't be faulted for.

When we were together, he fell into the habit of showing me photographs of Chloe as a baby and as a little girl, relieving all those special moments with me.

One day he and I were going for a walk together when we came upon the same park I'd passed earlier. Aleksandr stood at the fence watching the children wistfully, as I'd often done myself.

"I'd always assumed I'd be a grandfather some day," he said. "Now I'm not sure about that at all."

"Of course you will," I replied in an attempt to cheer him up.

"I don't want to die all alone," he continued.

"How can you think about death on a beautiful day like today?" I asked him.

"Carrie." His voice held a very serious tone. "I know that I am old, but...how would you feel about you and I having a child together?"


	4. Aleksandr's Operation

I couldn't have been more shocked if he'd dumped a bucket of ice water over the top of my head.

"But you...you said you weren't going to change your mind about not having your vasectomy reversed," I stammered.

"I did," he agreed. "But that was before..."

"Before what happened to Chloe," I finished for him.

"Yes."

"So you want me to give you a baby to replace Chloe in case she dies?" I was unable to keep the surprise out of my voice.

"No, no," Aleksandr insisted. "Please don't talk like that. It's just that lately I've been doing a lot of thinking, remembering what Chloe was like as a baby, all the special times Juliette and I shared with her, and I think I'd like to experience that over again with you this time."

"Alex, I...I don't quite know what to say." It was as if a door that I had thought had been closed forever had suddenly been cracked open, and I wasn't sure whether I'd like what I saw on the other side or not.

"You don't have to say anything right now," Aleksandr told me. "Just think about it, all right?"

For several days, it was just about the only thing I _could _think about. I'd had such a busy life when I'd lived in New York. Between my job, my friends, and my blossoming relationship with Aleksandr, I'd had a pretty full plate. Yet here in Paris, things were radically different. I no longer had a job to go to, I hadn't started a new book yet, and my American friends were now far away. I needed a new challenge, something to fulfill me, and the idea of a child with Aleksandr seemed very attractive.

"I've been thinking about it," I told him several nights later. "And I think I like the idea of having a baby together with you very much."

"I'm glad." He smiled. "I'll contact my physician tomorrow about having my vasectomy reversed."

* * *

The procedure was scheduled for a couple of weeks later. I accompanied Aleksandr to the hospital for moral support, and sat waiting with him until they called him back.

The waiting room was almost completely deserted. The only other occupant besides myself was an old man sitting in a corner with his head back, snoring. There was a magazine rack stuffed with magazines, but they were all in French. I was about to take out the paperback I'd brought along to help pass the time when I noticed that one of the magazine covers looked familiar, I picked the magazine up to look at it more closely and realized that it was a photograph of part of Aleksandr's art exhibition.

Listlessly I flipped through it, noticing that it also contained a small photograph of myself and Aleksandr standing together. Vaguely I wondered whether the surgeon was familiar with Aleksandr's work and, if so, whether or not he or she felt awkward performing surgery on Aleksandr's manly parts.

At last my Russian emerged, looking really out of it and walking gingerly, his legs spread wide apart. "Everything went well," the nurse told me. "He can expect some soreness for a couple of days. Call us if there's any bleeding or other complications. He can resume sexual activity in two weeks."

Back at the apartment, Aleksandr immediately sank into the softest chair in the living room, gingerly clutching his crotch. Quickly I fetched a glass of orange juice for him to swallow his pain medication with. "Can I get you anything else?" I asked him.

"An ice pack," he said weakly. I found one in the freezer, and he sighed wearily as he clutched it to his crotch.

* * *

He felt much better after a couple of days, and was able to resume his bedside vigil beside his daughter's bed. Every day I asked how she was doing, and every day he replied that her vitals were still stable but she hadn't regained consciousness yet. Many times at night, I heard him sobbing and longed to comfort him. All I could do was to hold him while he cried himself to sleep.

I kept in touch with Samantha, Charlotte, and Miranda by email. Samantha had finished her radiation and was still cancer-free, Charlotte and Harry were enjoying baby Lily, and Miranda and Steve were going through a divorce. I expressed my condolences to Miranda and told all three women about Chloe's accident and Aleksandr's vasectomy reversal. They all wished me the best and said that they hoped I'd be able to visit New York soon.


	5. Doing It Right

One afternoon, Aleksandr was actually smiling when he returned from his vigil at Chloe's bedside.

"She can move her eyes now!" he told me excitedly. "She can't open them yet, but you can see them moving back and forth underneath her eyelids. That means there _is _some brain activity going on."

"That's great!" I exclaimed.

He came to me and hugged me. I inhaled the woodsy scent of his aftershave and felt the silky smoothness of his shirt against the skin of my cheek. "I've also come to a decision regarding me and you and our relationship, Carrie."

My heart nearly stopped. After everything we'd been through together, was he about to break up with me?

"From now on, I think we should do things in the right order," Aleksandr continued. The next thing I knew, he was kneeling before me on one knee. "Carrie Bradshaw, will you marry me?"

Wow! I certainly hadn't been expecting that! I told him yes, of course. What else could I do?

The engagement ring he gave me was beautiful, a huge diamond set in gold.

"Do you like it?" he asked nervously.

"It's gorgeous!" I exclaimed, giving him a big hug and a kiss on the cheek. "So, when do you want to do it?"

"As soon as possible, of course," he replied. "I'll start contacting churches and see which one can do it the soonest."

"Church? But I thought you said you weren't particularly religious."

"I'm not," he replied. "But as I said before, I want to do it right this time, and that means a church wedding."

"What kind of church?"

"Russian Orthodox, of course."

"Was your first wedding in a Russian Orthodox church?"

"No. It was in a Roman Catholic church. That's what Juliette wanted. I was young."

"How old were you the first time you got married, Aleksandr?"

"That was...let's see, thirty years ago. I was twenty-three."

"And how long after that was Chloe born?"

"She was born five years later. We were young. We could afford to wait."

_Unlike me, _I thought, but I didn't say anything.

* * *

We were married several weeks later in a Russian Orthodox church near our apartment in Paris. Miranda and Samantha were there, but Charlotte couldn't make it.

"Wow, you look great!" I told Samantha.

"Thanks," she replied. "I feel like a new woman."

Miranda had brought Brady with her. "Hi, sweetheart!" I exclaimed, reaching for him. "You remember your Aunt Carrie, don't you?"

The ceremony was beautiful. Aleksandr wore a navy blue tuxedo, and I wore a lacy white gown. Some of the new friends I'd made in Paris came as well, and Aleksandr's colleagues from the art world were there, too.

_This is really it, _I told myself as I stood before the priest exchanging vows with the man I loved. _After all these years of searching for true love, of going from one man to another, I've finally found my heart's desire. _I knew that there might be rough patches to go through along the way, but we'd work through them together. Aleksandr and I were committed to one another and to our relationship.

He's spared no expense on the lavish reception following the ceremony. Table after table were laden with expensive hors d'oeuvres, and the four-tiered wedding cake had cost hundred of dollars. I flitted from table to table, greeting my guests and sampling the many culinary treats available. I looked over at Aleksandr and saw that he looked truly happy for the first time since Chloe's accident.

After everyone had left, my new husband took me on a romantic boat ride down the Seine. Underneath the stars we lounged on pillows enjoying the view of the scenery lining France's most romantic river and the feel of the cool breeze on our faces.

"Paris has got to be the most romantic city in the world," I said contentedly. "I'm so glad we got married here."

"So am I," Aleksandr agreed. "It's always been my favorite city in the world. I like it even better than St. Petersburg."

"Is that where you were born?" I asked him.

"Yes, but it was called Leningrad then."

"How long since the last time you were there?"

"It's been a few years. Three or four. I'll take you there someday. You'll love it."

In no hurry to return to the motel, we stayed on the Seine until the wee hours of the morning. As we entered our luxurious room afterwards, the fatigue hit me like a ton of bricks, and I almost collapsed.

"Whoa!" Aleksandr laughed as he steadied me. "The night's only just begun!"

He carried me to the bed and made love to me with an abandon he never had before, and as I slowly drifted to sleep wrapped tightly in his arms afterwards, I knew that everything was going to be all right from now on.


	6. Not This Month

It was almost noon the next day when I awakened and looked into Aleksandr's smiling face. "Good morning, Mrs. Petrovsky," he said.

"Good morning yourself, Mr. Petrovsky," I replied.

"Every morning is a good morning when I wake up beside you," he told me.

"Oh, you're so romantic!" I giggled.

"Well, shall we go for breakfast?" he asked.

The motel had a breakfast buffet. Aleksandr fed me French toast just like he'd fed me pancakes the morning after the first night we'd slept together. "You do realize that, if not for Chloe's situation, I'd take you on a cruise around the world," he told me.

"Of course," I replied. "I understand."

We did ride through the tunnel between France and England, which was something I'd longed to do since it had been constructed, and we spent several weeks touring England, Scotland, and Ireland. We rode the London Eye and visited many lovely castles, gardens, and museums. I kept a journal every day, committing to memory all the sights we'd seen and new things I'd experienced, and I sent loads of postcards to my friends back home. I began to consider writing another book, perhaps one on married life, although I was still so very new at it that there's no way I could have even pretended to be an expert on it.

Upon our return to Paris, cold, hard reality slapped me in the face once again. The first thing Aleksandr wanted to do was to visit Chloe in the hospital, of course, and I accompanied him.

She'd made progress while we'd been away. Although she still couldn't move or speak, her eyes were open for much longer periods of time now, and they seemed to contain at least some degree of comprehension.

"Hello, darling," said Aleksandr, sitting beside her bed and taking her hand into his own. "How have you been? I've sure missed you! Carrie and I have just returned from our honeymoon. We went to the British Isles. Remember going there with your Mom and me when you were little? Remember watching the changing of the guards at Buckingham Palace? I remember how you loved listening to Big Ben chime. Remember riding the tube, and those long escalators that people run up and down? They're still there."

I wondered how much of what her father was telling her Chloe really understood. Did she realize that Aleksandr and I were married now? If so, how did she feel about having me for a stepmother?

We stayed at the hospital together until visiting hours were over and then returned to our apartment. Aleksandr looked dejected.

"She seems to be doing a lot better to me," I told him.

"I know," he said quietly. "But she still has so far to go. I just can't help but wonder whether she'll ever walk or talk again, whether she'll ever be able to live an independent life."

"Everything's going to be all right." I gave him a comforting hug.

Later, we made love slowly and leisurely, as much out of a wish to comfort one another as out of desire. Idly, I wondered whether or not I'd conceived already. We'd resumed our sex life as quickly as it had been medically advisable, but we'd been warned that vasectomy reversals had only a fifty percent success rate, plus I knew that I was no longer as fertile as I'd been in my twenties and early thirties. It was, of course, far too soon to know whether or not we'd have to explore other options in becoming parents.

* * *

Life for me settled back into a predictable routine. Bored with having so much free time on my hands, I began to volunteer at the local library. I also struggled to improve my French, spending hours poring over instruction manuals and phrase books and even practicing with Aleksandr.

With the spring came the rain, and I spent many cozy afternoons snuggling in the recliner with a book while listening to the raindrops hit the window.

My period arrived a couple of weeks after we returned from our honeymoon. Although I tried to tell myself that I shouldn't feel _too _discouraged, that it was, after all, only our first month of trying, I'm sure my disappointment must have shown on my face, as I could see the sympathy in Aleksandr's face when I saw him next.

"Not this month," I told him.

He gave me a hug that said more than words could have.


End file.
